


And They Were Roommates

by hazel_lannister



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 05:52:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17401244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazel_lannister/pseuds/hazel_lannister
Summary: Bucky Barnes is an eager, outgoing student who is going to spend his first year in college with an introverted, sarcastically witty roommate. Steve thinks this year will be a drag with a clingy, slightly annoying roommate, but when he develops what he believes to be an unrequited crush, it's so much worse.Watch these two idiots pine for each other with me.





	And They Were Roommates

“Hi, I’m Bucky, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Steve’s roommate says excitedly, briefly reminding Steve of a golden retriever. Jesus, if the guy could seem any more enthusiastic, he’d be literally bouncing off the walls. 

“Steve,” he replies, holding out his free hand to shake Bucky’s. He’s handsome as hell and his handshake is warm and firm, but he’s definitely not Steve’s type. He can’t handle the type of people that are happy and loud all the time. He enjoys the quiet and rainy days. 

“Do you care which bed?” his roommate asks, shifting his feet restlessly and god, if that won’t get annoying. 

Steve shakes his head, looking around the small room, and when Bucky makes no move to select a side, Steve drops his suitcase on the bed on the right, the damn thing getting to be too heavy. 

They unpack in silence and in a minute, Bucky’s mom enters the room and introduces herself, to which Steve nods politely, and begins helping her son do the bed and unpack his clothes. The room is filled with quiet chatter between the two and small snarky jokes said with teasing smile, and it plays at the ache in Steve’s chest, wishing for a moment that his own mother could see him now, off to college and to start his life, just like she always wanted. 

Steve unpacks quickly, he has no need for that many clothes, and unable to be in the room with the happy pair for any longer, he quickly exits without a word. He needs to be alone for a while. 

…

It takes less than a second for Bucky to realize his roommate is gorgeous, and not much longer to become aware that he is extremely introverted. He gives him his space for a while because move-in day is stressful and it doesn’t look like Steve has anyone there to help him. It’s the evening when his Ma is on her way back home and they are both finally settled in that Bucky tries to reach out. 

Steve is seated at the desk on his side of the room, his back to Bucky, and he swears he hasn’t seen or heard Steve move much less breathe in almost an hour. Maybe he’s part robot; no human stays that still or that quiet for such a long period of time. 

“Hey, so, what’s your major? You have one yet?” Bucky asks, breaking the thick silence and Steve takes a moment to answer. 

“Art,” he says curtly and quietly without turning, and Bucky is almost sure he imagined the answer but when Steve adds nothing, he decides it must have actually happened. 

“That’s cool! Do you have a specific type or style or…” Bucky trails off, hoping the nonspecific sentence will give him more than a one-word answer. 

“Mostly realism.” A half shrug. Well, we got two words and a shrug this time. Progress? 

“Nice,” he says, unsure of how he can continue this very much one-sided conversation. It’s clear Steve isn’t much of a talker but he really doesn’t want to be sharing a room with a complete stranger. “Like any movies or anything like that?” 

…

Is this guy still fucking talking? How much clearer does Steve have to make it than his back turned and the short, curt answers. Maybe he should put headphones in and pretend not to hear him. Although he’s been quiet a minute, maybe--

“You watch  _ The Office _ ?” 

Ugh. 

“Nah.” 

“Any other shows like that? Or are you not much of a sitcom person?” 

Steve restrains himself from sighing deeply, but maybe if he bites and engages for a minute of conversation this guy will finally leave him the fuck alone. He turns in his chair and says, “I like  _ Friends _ …” 

Fuck, it should be illegal to be that attractive of a person. His hair is longer than most men and it’s half tied in a messy bun but loose strands fall around his face. His jaw is strong and squared, his eyes a deep gray that hold flecks of green in certain light. And the way he looks surprised and happy that Steve is finally talking to him… that shouldn’t be allowed. 

“I never watched that one, but it’s on my list,” Bucky says and Steve hums politely and begins to turn back to his laptop. “Maybe we should watch it together.” It’s said offhandedly and so casually but this guy doesn’t even know him, and an outgoing dude like Bucky probably makes plenty of friends, he has no need for Steve to watch something with him. 

“Mm,” Steve repeats noncommittally and returns to his computer and thankfully, Bucky leaves him be. 

…

Steve is definitely the quietest person Bucky has ever known in his entire life. He’s trying to convince himself that it’s just the way Steve is, that he’s extremely introverted, but he can’t help the niggling voice that keeps saying that it’s because Bucky is just too much, that he’s too annoying and his roommate hates him. 

He tries to talk himself out of it and spend a sufficient amount of his time with his friends who live downstairs but it still stings every time he thinks of a joke or reads something funny, or better, has something art related to say, but he knows that it will only bother him. 

His RA sends out roommate agreements that are due by the end of the week, and a part of Bucky dreads having to fill them out with Steve, but on the other hand, it is a mandatory conversation and an opportunity to talk to his disarmingly attractive roommate, all small and adorable with huge blue eyes surrounded by long lashes and pink, pouty lips. Ugh. 

“You ready to fill this fucker out?” Bucky asks, waving the roommate contract whatchamacallit. 

“Sure,” Steve says, removing his headphones and turning to face away from his desk. And towards Bucky. Fuck, he wasn’t prepared for such undivided attention. Maybe he should make that a stipulation of the agreement: no extended eye contact. 

“Lights out by what time?” Bucky asks, grabbing a pen. 

“Whenever you want, I go to bed around midnight but I can sleep with them on if you need.” 

Bucky nods and writes down ‘around midnight’. “Sounds good. Are you okay with music being played during the day?” 

Steve nods with a shrug. “Play whatever you want, I’m not picky.”

Bucky gives him his best half grin. “You’re pretty easy, ain’tcha?” he says with a laugh but his phrasing catches up in his brain too soon. “I mean to have as a roommate. Easy roommate is, uh…” But Steve is laughing, a wonderful sound, and fuck, Bucky didn’t think he could get any prettier. He looks almost as surprised as Bucky feels to have been amused by his roommate but a deep feeling of pride fills his stomach at having caused that entrancing smile. 

“What kind of music do you like?” Steve asks, interrupting his thoughts, and shit, did he just ask Bucky something about himself? Inviting a conversation that didn’t explicitly need to be covered by the agreement? 

“Honestly all types… there’s probably a song from every genre that I have saved. I usually go for older rock kinda stuff but modern music’s cool too. What about you?” 

Steve’s ears turn pink, and what a lovely color that is on him, and he gives a sheepish smile. “I like most music but when I’m alone I usually listen to movie scores and piano kind of stuff.”

_ That’s adorable _ . “That’s really cool! What kind of movies are the scores from, like action-y or more drama-y?”

“Drama-y?” Steve asks with a laugh and Bucky chuckles with him. “Both, I guess. Depends on the mood.” Bucky nods and lets the silence settle, comfortable for the first time since they moved in. 

“‘If a problem arises between roommates, how should this be brought up and addressed?’” Bucky reads in a stodgy British accent just because he can. Steve rolls his eyes but at least it’s a reaction and maybe Bucky’s finally getting somewhere with this guy. “Well I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer them sent using proper post, written in code in the case of an interception, maybe with a diagram on the back? What do you think?” Bucky asks with as serious a face he can muster but Steve is laughing,  _ again _ , and jeez, it wasn’t even one of his best. Maybe this can go somewhere. 

“How about we still with a verbal conversation,” Steve says after his chuckles die down and Bucky gives an exaggerated salute and writes it down. 

“Great, now we just gotta sign,” he says, signing his name on one of the lines before handing the pen and paper to Steve. He gives a small grateful smile and signs his name beside Bucky’s, his signature neat and artistic, just how he would expect after signing his own artwork no doubt. “Perfect, I’ll give it to him tomorrow.”

They silently get ready for bed and even though it’s quiet and Bucky fucking  _ hates _ the quiet, at least his roommate probably doesn’t hate him. And looks gorgeous when laughing at Bucky’s jokes which is  _ totally _ something he can work with. 

They both lie silently on their phones for a while and when Steve goes to turn out the light, Bucky hears a quiet, “Goodnight.”

He grins to himself in the dark and whispers his own, “Night, Steve.”

…

“Wanna come to dinner with Sam and Tony and them?” Bucky asks for about the third time this week. Jesus, get a hobby. 

“No thanks,” Steve replies without looking up from his homework. Why is he still standing here? If you’re hungry, go to dinner and get off his back. 

“Have you eaten anything today?” And is that worry in his voice? Who is this guy?

“I’ll go later,” Steve says by way of answer, or rather lack thereof. He can feel Bucky’s eyes on his back but he forces himself not to turn. Yes, he’s well aware he’s a sack of skin and bones. Childhood illness can have that effect on people. He’s fine now. 

“Alright,” Bucky finally says. “Text me if you want me to bring you anything.”

Steve hums and hears the door close behind him. 

…

That little shit needs to learn how to eat. And take care of himself in general. He eats once, maybe twice a day and leaves only to go to the library and for class… it makes the jewish mother in Bucky shudder.

Some strange part of him wants to take care of Steve, even though he knows he’d hate that Bucky thought that way, but he can’t fucking help it. He’s skin and bones and needs to learn how to have some fun. It’s college for God’s sake. 

He sometimes takes out an earbud and will listen to Bucky ramble about his day, and, truth be told, it’s sometimes the best part of his day. Sometimes he stays facing away from Bucky, but, on what Bucky has taken to calling the ‘not quiet days’, he’ll turn away from his computer and listen to what Bucky says and laugh at a couple of his awful jokes. 

They finally begin to talk a bit, and Steve reveals bits and pieces about his life in the poorer part of Brooklyn, how his dad left before he was born and his mom died this past year. They discuss movies and books and classes and it’s surprisingly wonderfully easy. 

Until…

“What do mean you’ve never seen Forrest Gump?!” And sure, Bucky’s voice comes out a bit louder than intended, but it’s one of those movies everyone needs to see at some point in their lives. 

Steve raises an eyebrow, amused by Bucky’s display, but who cares because Steve hasn’t seen the best goddam movie ever created. 

“We have to watch it,” Bucky says firmly, all jokes gone from his voice. 

“Oh really?” Steve asks, amusement clear on his face. 

“Tom Hanks, best performance of his career if you can believe it. A cinematic masterpiece.” He uses his best serious face and to his surprise, Steve cracks. 

“Fine,” he says rolling his eyes. “I need to finish this problem first.” 

Bucky stands excitedly, thrilled that his roommate is agreeing to spend time with him. “Yay! I’ll go get in pjs and make popcorn.” Steve raises an eyebrow but says nothing. His face clearly says something along the lines of ‘you are a child’ and Bucky is tempted to say ‘no take-backs’ just to prove him right, but he restrains himself.

He sets the movie up on his laptop and waits impatiently for Steve to finish his homework. He busies himself with reading when Steve finally stands from his desk. 

“Put on your pjs!” Bucky says when he begins to walk to Bucky’s bed and with a sigh, he turns to his closet with a heavy roll of his eyes. 

He puts on the flannel bottoms he always wears and a t-shirt that is at least three sizes too big but somehow looks incredibly adorable on Steve’s tiny frame. He takes a seat next to Bucky and they lean against his pillows set up against the wall and the laptop sits between their extended legs. 

Bucky can feel the heat radiating from Steve’s body as the opening music begins and he sucks in a focusing breath to pull his attention to the movie, even though he has just about every line memorized. 

… 

The bed begins shaking as Tom Hanks meets his son for the first time, and at first Steve worries they are having an earthquake, but when he glances to his right, it’s Bucky’s silent sobs that are making the bed move. His brows are upturned in the middle and his eyes are wet and he really shouldn’t look adorable while crying but damn it all, he does. 

He’s holding his hand over his mouth in a clear attempt to smother the sound and God, it’s ridiculous that a movie, one that he’s seen countless times, is causing such an emotional reaction. Steve leans forward to pause it briefly. 

“You good?” he asks, trying to keep the humor from his voice but he’s probably failing. 

Bucky nods but the dam seems to break because his sobs are no longer silent and his chest collapses in on itself. Steve raises a hand but is unsure where to go from there. When Bucky heaves in a shaky breath, Steve hesitantly pats him on the shoulder. He’s never been good with people crying, and definitely never over a movie. What a fucking nerd. A cute, handsome, strong, funny, adorable fucking nerd. 

“ _ Steve _ ,” Bucky cries, wiping his nose on a tissue and looking at Steve accusingly. 

“ _ Bucky,” _ he mimics, and yes, he’s an adult and should be too old for such antics but it’s just so fun sometimes. 

“His  _ first _ question is ‘is he smart?’ because he doesn’t want his child to go through the same shit he did as a kid, Steve, don’t you  _ get _ it?” Bucky is pleading with him to show something but Steve doesn’t express emotion that way, and he certainly doesn’t get this worked up over a movie. 

“It’s sweet, I get it, I just don’t cry at movies,” Steve says on half a laugh with a shrug. 

Bucky looks about as disgusted as a man with snot and tears dripping can muster and Steve can’t help but compare him to a wet cat. He tries to keep down his smile and bites his cheek hard. 

“What are you, heartless? Do you just not feel things when you watch movies??” 

Steve rolls his eyes and leans forward to hit play instead of bothering to answer. 

…

The ending music makes Bucky a little teary-eyed but he’s not full on crying so he counts it as a win. He glances at Steve out of the corner of his eye and yup, he’s still watching. Huh. Bucky had half expected him to whip out his phone or chicken out halfway through. But no, his leg is still an inch from Bucky’s, skinny and shorter and probably very soft with those pajamas, almost as soft as that straw-colored hair he has that looks mussed at the moment, and Bucky very much wants to see if it’s as silky as it looks. 

“So… what’d you think?” Bucky finally asks when the screen goes black. 

“It was… surprisingly a pretty good movie,” Steve says with a soft smile that makes Bucky’s breath catch in his throat. 

…

Steve starts going to meals more often, and it really shouldn’t make his stomach flutter this way every time Bucky looks so goddam pleased when he accepts an invitation. It shouldn’t even make much of a difference when Steve goes; he makes a few sarcastic comments and laughs more than he should at Bucky’s dumb jokes. 

But everytime he does, even when he drops an insult on Bucky, that stupid fucking pleased smile returns like he can’t think of anything better than Steve calling him an annoying shit. 

“But you love me anyway,” Bucky says, bumping Steve’s shoulder as he walks. 

Steve just huffs and rolls his eyes. This guy is a freaking golden retriever and no matter how much attention Steve gives him, he still wants more. 

They get back to the dorm and Steve sits at his desk to finish a paper due in a few days but Bucky doesn’t sit down. Steve vaguely hears him wandering around the room and Steve puts headphones in so he can concentrate. He’s about halfway through the essay when he feels a weight on one shoulder, and he looks to see Steve resting his chin there. Jesus H. Christ. 

“Can I help you?” he asks sarcastically, not turning away from his computer. 

“Wanna come to a party next door?” Bucky murmurs and he’s so close to Steve’s ear that his voice can’t be above a murmur, his breath warm on Steve’s neck. It sends goosebumps down Steve’s spine but to his surprise, he doesn’t shake Bucky off. It’s almost… nice. 

“Nah,” Steve says, continuing his typing, but he pauses to add, “thanks, though.” It’s only polite. 

“Not really your scene, huh.” Bucky doesn’t phrase it as a question and Steve is sure he already knows the answer, but he shakes his head anyway. “Alright, I’ll see you later. Or probably tomorrow.” 

Steve nods and hears their door close a moment later. He finishes the paper and gets ahead on some of his reading and then, because he doesn’t feel like being productive anymore, he takes out the sketchpad he keeps hidden behind his desk. It’s filled with drawings of naked people, (mostly men since Steve’s always been more… drawn to the male form, no pun intended), and even though he knows no one would probably look through it and even if they did, it wasn’t anything  _ that _ lewd, especially for an artist… But Steve’s always been a really private person and a little piece of him ends up on the paper every time he draws and he doesn’t think he wants anyone to see that. 

It’s late when he finishes his drawing of Adonis, a simple sketch with a focus on the way his muscles appear tensed and ready, hard and strong. He hears some people laughing loudly outside his door and rolls his eyes, glancing at the time. It’s two in the morning, well past quiet hours, although it’s nothing new for a few asshats to be obnoxious in the wee hours of the morning. 

One of said asshats thumps his door and Steve rolls his eyes. Maybe they’re looking for Bucky; no one comes to the room for Steve. The door moves again and the voices aren’t speaking anymore. Steve hears the key in the lock and sighs. Bucky managed his way back. 

Steve stands to open the door since it sounds like Bucky is having a rough time getting the key to work. He opens the door and Bucky’s face is surprised and startled before a loose grin takes its place. 

“Steeeeeeve,” he says loudly and Steve quickly shushes him, herding him into the room and closing the door quickly behind him. “You’re still awake,” Bucky whispers conspiringly, but he’s clearly very drunk, and though his voice comes out in a whisper, it’s just as loud as his speaking voice. 

“Yeah, Buck, I’m still up,” Steve says, helping Steve stumble over to his bed. He sways for a moment once he’s seated on the mattress and Steve empties one of the trash cans and brings it over. “If you throw up, do it in this,” he says, placing it next to the head of the bed. 

“Don’ worry, Stevie, I’mmm fiiiine,” he slurs out. Jesus, what a fucking wreck. He ignores the way the nickname makes him feel warm inside. Steve changes him into his pajama bottoms and then drags him to the bathroom. 

Bucky giggles and makes joking passes at Steve and is also even more tactile than when he’s sober, if you can believe it. Steve helps him wash his hands like a fucking kindergartner but this is what he’s signed up for. Better than Bucky wetting the bed or some shit. 

Steve helps him get into bed and in a surprisingly tender gesture, even to himself, he pulls the blankets up and around Bucky, tucking him in just like his mom used to do. He turns to head to bed himself but a hand circling his wrist stops him. 

“Hey, Stevie?” Bucky asks, his voice sleepy and his eyes closing. 

“Yeah?” 

“‘M glad you’re my roommate… you’re a good pal.” 

And even though the grip on his wrist has loosened all the way and his eyes are shut, his breathing deep, Steve still whispers, “You too, Buck.”

…

Bucky’s retinas are screaming. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know how. He just knows that the white hot searing pain the light burns into his eyes is fucking unbearable. He groans and pulls a pillow over his face and hears a mild chuckle. Whom the fuck???

The last night comes back in bits and pieces; the many shots he had tipped back, all in quick succession, the dancing and laughing… ugh. 

“I’m never drinking again,” he says into his pillow and hears the muffled chuckle once more. “Don’t laugh at my pain, Steve,” he cries, wayyyy too loudly and winces. Resigning himself to sit up, (he really has to pee), he gingerly removes the pillow and slowly opens his eyes. He stays lying down until he can handle the muted light, he notices Steve hasn’t drawn back the curtains. Weird. Then he begins to sit up. 

“Ughhh,” he grumbles out as he slowly makes his way to a vertical and the world begins to dip. 

“Use the trash can if you’re going to vomit,” Steve says without turning away from his computer where he’s quietly typing away. Bucky thinks about it, holding his head with his elbows on his knees, and decides he’s not going to throw up. 

“Steve,” Bucky mumbles, not moving from his position. The world feels less tilty when he sits like this. 

“Mm?” Steve replies, still typing away. 

“Don’t ever let me drink again,” he says, his voice gruff like he swallowed gravel. 

Steve lets out a huff of a laugh. “Like I could stop you.” He has a point. 

Bucky stumbles his way to the restroom and once he’s relieved himself and brushed his teeth, he feels more like a human being again. As he’s opening the door, a memory or dream from last night filters through his mind; Steve’s skinny arms helping him over to the bed, him tucking the sheets… It’s all fuzzy and probably just some alcohol-induced dream but it puts a smile on Bucky’s face all the same. 

…

“Gettin’ ready for dinner?” Bucky asks, his chin resting on Steve’s shoulder. 

“That time already?” Steve mumbles distractedly. 

“Mhmm,” Bucky replies, his voice soft and rumbling so close to Steve’s ear. It tickles but for whatever reason, Steve doesn’t shove him off. 

“I’m good, thanks,” he says, his voice coming out huskier than it should and he tries to focus more on the laptop in front of him but it’s distracting feeling Bucky’s solid heat behind him, his stubble tickling Steve’s neck. 

“Hmm,” Bucky says, unsatisfied. He still hasn’t moved his chin and this is quickly becoming too much. It’s inappropriate to have weird feelings for your roommate, especially one that’s both too annoying and too adorable for his own good. And Steve’s. 

“Is there something else you wanted?” Steve asks impatiently, finally shrugging Bucky off and instead of laughing the way he usually does when Steve insults him or pushes him off, Bucky looks strangely like a kicked puppy. Instead of answering his question, he poses one of his own. 

“Have you eaten yet today?” 

Steve hesitates, trying to remember the last meal he had, and damn, look at that, it was yesterday’s lunch after all. He deliberates lying so that Bucky will get off of his back but it appears his hesitation was too long. That, or Bucky just sees right through him, because he’s fixing Steve with  _ a look™ _ . 

“Oh, hellll no, get up. You gotta eat at the very  _ least _ once a fuckin day, Rogers.” He pulls naggingly at Steve’s shoulder. Jesus, this guy doesn’t quit. 

Steve groans and tries halfheartedly to shove him off but they both know he won’t win this. “I’m fine,” Steve says with an exaggerated eye roll and he knows he sounds like a petulant teen but he really doesn’t care. 

“No you’re not, and as your honorary Jewish mom, it’s my job to keep you fed,” Bucky says firmly and the earnestness of his tone makes Steve fight off a smile. “Jeez, speaking of which, don’t ever let my mom see you,” he adds, looking at Steve’s slight form. 

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You’re my Jewish mom, now?” 

Bucky has a look on his face that clearly says ‘try me’. “Yes. Now get up, we’re eating.” Steve lets out an exaggerated sigh but relents. 

…

Steve is actually coming to more meals with Bucky, and even though he complains every time, Bucky wouldn’t change a thing. 

“C’mon, it’s time for lunch,” he says, nudging Steve’s shoulder. Steve doesn’t move so he resorts to poking like an annoying younger sibling, which he will happily do for as long as it takes because he will out-annoy anyone. Try him. 

Steve finally takes out his earbuds and fixes him with a pleading look that roughly translates to, ‘please don’t make me do this’. 

Bucky prepares for the best imitation of his mother he can manage. “Aww, Stevie, you’re so thin, you need to eat,” he bemoans, using his hands to examine Steve exaggeratedly. “Do you want to kill your mother worrying about you?” Steve looks like he’s trying his best to be annoyed but his humor overrules and he laughs, rolling his eyes. 

“Alright, alright,” he says, standing to go put on some shoes. 

…

“So you like horror movies and other awful things so much and you  _ haven’t seen ‘ _ The Sixth Sense’?” Bucky says around a mouthful of sandwich and it really shouldn’t be adorable but Steve can’t help but think so. 

Steve shrugs with his palms upturned, pushing his noodles around his plate. 

“Can we watch it tonight?” Bucky asks him with puppy dog eyes. “Pleeeeaaase?” 

Steve groans and rolls his eyes but he knows that Bucky now knows him well enough to be aware of his assent. 

They sit together on Bucky bed, leaning against one of his pillows because the other is on permanent hiatus--(don’t ask, Steve regrets it)-- and Steve’s skinny frame doesn’t take up much room anyway. He tries not to be aware of the pressure of Bucky’s shoulder against his own, so warm and solid, but it’s difficult to focus on the movie when he can  _ feel _ every intake of breath, every shift. It’s both too much and not enough. 

Steve doesn’t like being touched. It takes a lot of time for him to start to trust someone and even longer before he’s willing to be tactile with them, but with Bucky, everything is so different. Bucky is clearly someone who craves human contact, so warm and inviting, Steve can’t help but fall under his magnetic spell. 

Bucky suddenly jumps as the little ghost girl gets sick in the movie and Steve chokes on a laugh. “Haven’t you seen this before?” he asks around coughs. 

“Yeah, but it’s still scary,” Bucky replies defensively back but his heart clearly isn’t in it, his face etched with concern and he’s no longer watching the movie. Steve is still struggling through a coughing fit, and  _ ugh _ , it’s going to be one of the times he needs an inhaler, he can already tell, but he hates when people look at him with pity. 

He glances at Bucky, knowing that it’s going to be that look he always gets, the look that people do when they see his frail and skinny body and hear the rattling cough that rips through his lungs. But Bucky doesn’t look at him with pity, he looks at him as though searching for something that  _ he _ can do to help. 

Bucky hesitantly touches his shoulder, question written on his face. “Bottom drawer,” Steve manages to get out, pointing to his desk and in a heartbeat, Bucky is up, quickly grabbing the inhaler and handing it to Steve. 

Steve takes a puff and holds it for as long as he can, and Jesus, Bucky has a hand on his shoulder again and it’s horrible and wonderful all at the same time. Steve lets out the shaky breath and sucks in another, testing before deciding on another puff to be safe. He’s regained his breath to an extent and his throat no longer feels as tight, so he counts it as a win. 

“Thanks,” he whispers and makes a move to stand so that he can put the inhaler away and Bucky quickly moves out of his way but seems stiff in his movements, as though he can’t quite decide how worried he should be about Steve walking by himself. 

He puts the inhaler back and makes himself comfortable once more on the bed, looking expectantly at Bucky, who, to his relief, gives a broad smile, but Steve can see it’s masking his worry, and retakes his seat next to Steve and plays the movie. 

…

The ground feels very jello-y. Bucky doesn’t know if that’s a word. If it isn’t, it really should be. You know who would know if jello-y is a word? Bucky would bet Steve does. He takes out his phone and clicks Steve cell number. 

“Buck?” is all the answer he gets. 

“Is jello-y a word?” Bucky asks instead of saying hello. 

“Bucky, what the fuck, it’s 2:30 in the morning,” the gruff voice comes through the cellphone and damn, gravely morning voice is really hot on Steve. 

Did he say that out loud?

“Did you call me just to ask me about jello and talk about my voice?” tired Steve voice says on the other end. Oops. Guess he did. 

“Uhhhh,” Bucky says eloquently, but in his defense, he’s had like a bajillion shots. And the floor is really jello-y. He tells Steve as much. 

“Buck, tell me you’re drinking water.” Ooh, Sexy Steve sounding stern. Isn’t that an author thing? Alitersmation? Assimilation? Whatever. 

“Don’ need water when ya got vodka,” Bucky replies, laughing at his own genius. 

“Go to bed, Barnes.”

“Ooh, I just got last named by Sexy Steve. Save it for dirty talk, baby,” Bucky says back. Wow, he’s a terrific flirter. Why doesn’t he flirt with Sexy Steve more often? He’s cute and laughs at Bucky’s jokes, and… Bucky lost his train of thought. 

Steve sighs on the other line and Bucky briefly wonders how much of  _ that _ interior monologue was actually exterior. “Bucky, go to bed. Either find some place wherever you are or come home.” Steve sounds tired. He shouldn’t sound tired, Bucky wants him to sound happy. He tries to make him smile with a joke. 

“Are you trying to get me into bed, Mr. Rogers? Oh, the scandal!” Bucky can practically  _ hear _ Steve rolling his eyes on the other end of the line but he does hear the huff of laughter and he is immediately brought back to the memory of Steve’s asthma attack. “I was so worried, ya know,” he says solemnly. 

“Whaddaya mean, Buck?”

“When you had the asthma. Athsma? Asthma. I didn’t know what to fuckin’ do, an’ you’re real, real important. So uh, I forgot what I was saying. Steve, I need to go pee.”

“Go pee,” Bucky hears softly. “Please be careful. And please go the fuck to bed.” The last bit of the sentence is harder but there’s a note of humor. 

“Okay, Mr. Bossypants. Will you help me get to bed when I come back?” 

“Sure, Buck. See you in a bit.”

…

Steve hears a groan the next morning and rolls his eyes while fighting a fond smile that is quickly becoming a common feature of Steve’s face when Bucky is around. Eh, but he’s facing away from Bucky so screw it. 

“Uggghhh…” 

“Need I point out you brought this upon yourself?” Steve asks, smirking, and turns in his chair to face Bucky’s bed. He’s lying with his pillow over his face and his arms holding it down. 

“I told you never to let me drink again, Steve. This one’s on you,” says the muffled voice from beneath the pillow. Steve scoffs but it turns into a laugh. 

“I thought  _ you _ were the Jewish mom,” Steve points out, trying not to notice that the blanket has slipped down a bit and Bucky has apparently taken his shirt off during the night. Fucking dick. 

The pillow is removed and Bucky’s squints up at Steve across the room. “It’s  _ my _ job you eat ya fuckin punk, and it’s  _ your  _ job to make sure I don’t do anything too stupid.” 

Steve fixes him a  _ look _ because how the fuck is that fair? Steve doubts  _ anyone _ could prevent Bucky Barnes from doing exactly what he wanted. 

“Okay, okay, it’s your job to make sure I don’t drink too much?” 

The look doesn’t change and Bucky sighs. “Fine, you don’t have a job, happy?” 

Steve rolls his eyes but bites his lip on a smile as he turns away from Bucky. 

… 

Maybe because Steve feels bad about Bucky being hungover, or maybe, (what Bucky hopes is the case), Steve just enjoys Bucky’s company, Steve comes with Bucky to brunch. Well, it’s more like afternoon lunch, but it’s both of their first meals of the day so Bucky calls it brunch. 

It’s nice eating with just Steve and listening to sarcastic barbs that he likes to think mean that they’re close and that Steve is comfortable enough with Bucky to joke around with him. 

“Yeah, let’s get this bread is way too last week. I prefer ‘let’s obtain this grain’... ‘yeet the wheat’, uhhhh ‘finagle this bagel’?” Steve laughs and shakes his head, fixing Bucky with a look that’s almost… fond. 

“Is that even a word? You totally made that up!” Steve accuses around laughter. 

“Did not!” Bucky cries indignantly. He pulls out his phone to look up the word and notices two missed calls from his mom. “Hey, you about ready to head back?” he asks, glancing at Steve’s near empty plate. 

Steve must notice the sudden change in atmosphere because he doesn’t question, just walks silently back to their room. 

“I gotta…” Bucky says, gesturing to a bench a few yards away. 

Steve nods and leaves him there, glancing back with confusion and perhaps concern on his face. 

“Hey Ma, everything alright?” 

“Bucky--” 

…

Bucky doesn’t return for about an hour and it’s making Steve anxious. The look on his face when he pulled out his phone clearly said something was not right and Steve doesn’t know what to do to help. It’s clearly something Bucky isn’t ready to share, or maybe it’s a private family matter… 

It’s just weird because Bucky has always been so forthcoming, Steve doesn’t think the guy has the capacity to keep a secret, he’s so open and… Steve really shouldn’t go down that road. 

His thoughts are interrupted as their door opens and Bucky walks in slowly. His hair is messy and his eyes are red and puffy. “Hey,” Steve says hesitantly. Bucky gives him a wan smile and it just about breaks Steve’s heart that this normally fun loving, cheerful guy is suddenly quiet and distressed. But Steve has never been good at comforting people, even less so when he’s never seen this guy upset… it’s discerning, the blankness of his gaze. 

“If you wanna talk about it…” Steve trails off lamely and Bucky gives him a grateful smile. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a long time so Steve turns back to his drawing to relieve some of the tension. He doesn’t put in his headphones just in the case that Bucky wants to talk or something, but for the time being, he elects to leave him alone. 

He’s almost finished with his drawing when Bucky speaks, suddenly breaking the silence. “My grandma died.” 

Steve’s pencil stops mid-stroke and he slowly turns in his seat to face Bucky. He’s lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling, fingers laced on top of his chest. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what more to say, grief is such a fickle thing and it’s different for everyone… Steve got so tired of the apologies when his mom died, the pitying looks from fucking everyone… 

“She was real old and we knew it was coming for a while… but still.” Steve nods. 

His mom had been the only one Steve was okay with taking care of him… it was devastating when she left the world. And there was no way that an ‘I’m sorry’ could ever cover the grief he felt but Steve logically knew that there weren’t enough words people could say to him that would be sufficient. ‘I’m sorry’ was the best most people could do. 

And now Steve knows exactly how they felt, unable to help but wanting to reach out in some way… Bucky gives a soft smile that says his thanks and Steve fiddles with his pencil. Neither says anything for some time and Steve thinks about when he was grieving, all he ever wanted was a distraction. He hated talking about his feelings, it was better to process those alone and get his mind off of it during the day. It was best to just act as normal as possible. 

He leaves Bucky to himself for some time, wanting to give him the opportunity for privacy and time should he want it. 

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Steve asks tentatively after about an hour and Bucky turns his head, fixing Steve with a look that is both confused and grateful. After a beat, he nods and Steve brings his laptop to Bucky’s bed. “Move,” he says, smacking Bucky’s leg and he looks shocked and lets out a surprised laugh. 

They press together and Steve opens a new tab. “What’s next on the list?” he asks Bucky and without even pulling it up, Bucky responds, “Ice Age!” 

Steve resists the urge to groan because he’s doing this for Bucky dammit. He pulls up the movie and they watch with easy quiet, their legs pressed against one another. A few minutes in, Bucky rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve knows it can’t be comfortable with his bony-ass shoulder, but Bucky doesn’t move. And it’s kind of… nice. 

Bucky’s the most tactile person Steve has ever known, of course he’s going to want comfort by touch, but Steve isn’t good at that. But he’ll try for Bucky’s sake. A little while later, Bucky shifts down and rests his head in Steve’s lap, curling up beside him. Steve hesitates a moment, unsure where to rest his arm and tentatively places it on Bucky’s side. 

Almost as soon as the contact is made, Bucky lets out a deep sigh relaxing further in Steve’s lap. A few moments later, Bucky drapes his arm across Steve’s legs, placing his hand on Steve’s knee. The contact is surprisingly nice and Steve enjoys the warm weight of having Bucky there. 

He moves his hand slowly up Bucky’s side, tentatively stroking his arm and back to hopefully provide comfort in some small way, and Bucky sighs once more. God, he  _ is _ like a golden retriever. 

Bucky pauses the movie for a moment, nestling back into Steve’s lap, his face half buried in Steve’s leg. Steve looks down at him, confused, but Bucky’s eyes are closed. “Can I talk to you about her? I think it’ll make me feel better now.” Steve squeezes his shoulder. 

“‘Course, Buck.”

Bucky sighs again, the puff of air warm on Steve’s leg. “She was just a real sweet lady. She grew up poor and couldn’t afford toys for her grandkids like some other people, but every year she took us to get our school supplies, like binders, pens, and stuff. And that was way more meaningful than some toy that I’d forget about after a month, ya know? Always wanted to make sure her grandkids got the most outta their education.” 

Steve hums and runs his hand up and down Bucky’s arm. “Sounds like she was very special, I’m sorry she’s gone, Buck.” 

Bucky gives a grateful smile and squeezes Steve’s knee. “She was somethin’ else. But she lived a good life and was happy in the end. It’s okay.” Steve nods, even though Bucky can’t see him and after a moment, Bucky reaches forward and pushes play on the movie, signalling their talk for the moment is done. 

His hair is splayed across Steve’s lap and he really wants to feel if those locks are as soft as they look, and after a moment’s hesitation, his hand trails up from Bucky’s shoulder and he begins gently toying with the silky smooth texture. Growing more confident, he begins to run his nails along Bucky’s scalp the way his mom used to do to him and in an instant, Bucky just  _ melts _ , sighing deeply and closing his eyes. 

For whatever reason, Steve’s heart feels very warm. 

…

“Do you just not have shirts? It’s 50 degrees, dude,” Steve startles Bucky from his pacing around the room. He glances down at himself and sure enough, his chest is bare. 

“Aw, I’m sorry, am I  _ distracting _ ?” Bucky says, waggling his eyebrows. 

Steve turns a delicious shade of red and rolls his eyes, saying nothing. Bucky needs to get a fucking grip because Steve is clearly not as comfortable with blatantly flirting with anything that breathes, and this case is a bit different because he’s crushing on the guy, and said guy is his fucking  _ roommate _ , and said roommate is probably fucking straight. 

Figures. 

Bucky needs to get his mind off of the adorable snarky man he has to live with for a full goddam year. He’s gonna fuck someone tonight, it’s decided. Bucky Barnes is fuckin catch and a damn good fuck if he says so himself. 

“I’m gonna go to a party tonight,” he decides aloud. 

“As long as you don’t call me at three am again, I don’t care what you do.”

…

Steve wishes he hadn’t been so lenient with his instructions. Because the truth is, he’s suddenly discovered, that he  _ does _ care. A little bit. Not that much. But it stings more than it should when Bucky tells him about this girl he met at the party last night and evidently hooked up with and is now ranting about how she won’t stop texting him. 

“But seriously, I don’t lead people on, that’s not my style! I made abundantly clear that this was just sex and that I’m not looking for any more, blah blah blah…”

Steve hums noncommittally, trying not to divulge how much this is affecting him. 

“And now she’s asking me to dinner and coffee and all that crap! Steve, what do I do? Try to make it clear again?” 

Steve hums again and shrugs, not looking up from his book. 

“Steeeeeve.” 

“What.” 

“I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.”

…

Steve is being weirdly quiet today, even more so than usual, and even though Bucky really wants to spend just about every minute with him, he does his best to lay off. He busies himself with Sam and Tony who live downstairs and goes to a party with them later. 

Somehow the incessant crush that constantly nags at his mind seems more bearable when he’s balls deep in someone. Pardon his french. 

This is college, this is the place to have random hookups and drunken grinding while making out. It’s  _ not _ the place to pine over some guy you live with for a whole goddam year. 

…

Steve’s stomach hurts. To be fair, it hurts a little just about every time Bucky tells him about his newest hookup. But still. It kind of sucks. 

Bucky’s going out most nights now, not watching as many movies with Steve and not making sure he eats everyday, and as much as it annoyed him at first, it now leaves a void in his chest. One worsened every time Bucky talks about whoever’s fucking room he wakes up in. 

“And the guy sucked cock like it was what he was fucking  _ born _ for… And you know how I was saying I don’t usually, you know,  _ date _ , but he’s actually a really cool guy.” Bucky pauses, seeming almost hesitant for a moment, like he’s waiting for Steve’s approval or some shit. And wait, hold up, ‘guy’???? Bucky likes cock? 

It makes the weight of knowing he’ll never like Steve even heavier. At least if he were straight it wouldn’t be something about Steve other than his dick. Now he knows it’s what everyone else sees in him; the tiny build and the weak bones. 

So Steve plasters on a fake smile. “That’s great, you should text him, see where it goes.”

“You think?” Bucky asks, biting his lip adorably. 

“Sure. Doesn’t hurt to find out.” Steve swallows the lump in his throat and feels Bucky wrap his arms around him. 

“Thanks, Stevie,” he murmurs into his ear and Steve tries not to shiver at the sensation. 

“Sure, Buck.”

…

Mark comes to the dorm the next day, wearing a bright smile. He’s blonde like Steve but almost as tall as Bucky with average build and pale blue eyes. He’s of average stature but has a nice enough face and is overall pretty friendly. Bucky could see going out with him. 

“Hey, how are you?” he asks, kissing Bucky on the cheek. 

“I’m good, you? Steve, this is Mark.” Steve glances up and gives a polite smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. 

“Hey,” Mark says in return. “You ready to go?” he asks, addressing Bucky. 

“Yup! See ya later, Steve.” They walk out the door and just before it closes, Bucky glances back to where Steve sits with his brows furrowed and his lip between his teeth. 

… 

Why did Mark have to be fucking everything that Steve isn’t? Blue eyes and blonde hair but that’s where the resemblance ends. His smile is bright and easy: handsome. He’s tall and he doesn’t look like a goddamn skeleton, which is another thing he has on Steve. He also probably enjoys conversation, the asshole, and he’s probably just a nice human being. 

Steve hates him. 

But he can’t do anything about it; it’s none of his business who Bucky dates and Bucky likes him. That should be good enough for Steve. He sighs at his own petulant thoughts and pulls out his sketchbook, resigning himself for some cathartic drawing. 

… 

Steve is coughing when Bucky walks in later that evening, and he immediately goes to the desk for the inhaler, but Steve waves him off. His coughs calm down and he sighs, sinking further into the bed. “Not an asthma attack. Spit probably went down the wrong way.” Bucky nods shakily, trying not to show how worried he had been for a moment. 

He fixes him with an assessing look and when Steve still isn’t coughing, he goes to sit on his own bed. “How’d it go?” a tentative voice asks quietly, and to his surprise, Steve is actually looking at him, his laptop closed in front of him. 

“Pretty well,” Bucky says after considering a moment. “Mark’s a nice guy, you two would get along I bet. He’s real into art and stuff…” he trails off when Steve makes a face and Bucky has no idea what it means. He quickly catches himself, though, and Steve’s face is once again blank. “One of these days you gotta show me one of your sketches… I bet you’re real good, Stevie.” He uses the nickname without thinking and internally curses himself. 

Steve gives a noncommittal shrug. “Glad you had such a good time.” His voice doesn’t match his words but Bucky figures that’s just the way Steve is. “Gonna go out with him again?” 

“I think so… he asked me to dinner tomorrow night.” Bucky doesn’t know why it suddenly feels so awkward to have this conversation with Steve, he’s talked about hookups before… But Mark isn’t just a hookup. He’s a potential relationship, something he’s wanted with Steve for too long now and it feels… uncomfortable to be talking about it with him. But Steve’s become a good friend here and he’s lucky to be so close to his roommate, and if Steve wants to talk about this shit that fuck his unreciprocated feelings. 

“That’s great, Bucky,” Steve says and then looks down at his lap for a moment. He glances up once more after a beat. “I hope he makes you happy.” It feels like a dismissal in more ways than one. 

…

When Steve wakes up the next morning, he takes in a great wheeze of air, dry and harsh through his raw and sore throat. Fuck. He’s sweating and warm and he kicks the blankets off, moving his tongue around in his mouth as he searches for his water bottle. 

He takes a long drink despite his throat and suddenly it’s too cold to be outside of the covers. He quickly pulls them over his body once more, only to overheat a few minutes later. He sticks a leg out and sighs. It’s going to be one of those days. 

He’s glad that Bucky has a few morning classes and won’t be back until later that afternoon so he doesn't have to see Steve like this. Maybe he’ll be better by that time. A ragged cough escapes him at the thought and knowing his luck, Bucky will finally see him as a brittle, frail body. 

Steve somehow drifts back to sleep but is awakened by Bucky banging into the room. “Steve, you’re  _ not _ gonna believe the day--” he cuts off, finally seeming to notice Steve blinking blearily up at him. “Why are you still asleep, are you okay?”

Steve nods but his body betrays him and a wet cough overtakes him for a minute, Bucky hovering over him clearly looking for some way to help. “Just a cold,” he chokes out but Bucky looks at him dubiously. 

“You look awfully pale… have you eaten or drunk anything?” Why do those eyes have to look so adorable, even when concerned? And even though Steve hates when people worry about him, with Bucky, it makes him slightly pleased because he knows that if Bucky didn’t care about him, he wouldn’t be worried. 

Steve clears his throat and takes an exaggerated sip of water. “‘M not hungry,” he says even though he knows he sounds like a child. 

“Hmm,” Bucky replies and picks up the water bottle after Steve has set it down. 

Steve opens his mouth to question or protest but Bucky holds up his own water bottle. “I’m refilling mine anyway,” he says, as if he knows that Steve hates people taking care of him. 

He mumbles his thanks when Bucky returns and they both turn to their own work; Steve is lucky, most of his homework is posted online so he doesn’t have to miss much. After about a half hour of working in silence, Steve’s eyelids are heavy again and he allows himself to succumb to sleep. 

…

When Steve wakes up  _ again _ , it’s already dark outside, meaning it could be evening or the wee hours of the morning. He glances at Bucky’s empty bed but that doesn’t tell him much; he’s supposed to have a date tonight so he could be spending the night at  _ Mark’s _ . Even in his head, the name comes out like a petulant child. 

The door opens suddenly, startling Steve more completely awake, and he sits up to see who the visitor or intruder is. Bucky gives him a confused look fitted with a smile at Steve’s surprise and Steve’s stomach flops a bit. Which makes him aware that he is hungry. 

Bucky’s carrying something that smells divine, like warmth and salt and oregano… and to Steve’s surprise, he takes a seat on Steve’s bed, next to his legs. “Hey,” he says, opening the container that has whatever smells so good. “How are you feeling?” 

“Bit better,” Steve croaks and Bucky gives him a look, but he does feel better knowing Bucky is here with him and not with fucking  _ Mark _ . Which reminds him. “Don’t you have a date tonight?” Bucky hands him the container and a spoon--where did that come from?-- and Steve inhales the wonderful scent of chicken noodle soup. But it smells better than it ever has and it has white balls floating around. “Thank you,” he says with surprise and his endearment for the other man seeps into his voice without his consent. 

“Of course. You didn’t think I’d just leave you here when you’re sick?” Steve flushes and sips a bit of the broth instead of answering. It’s delicious, the perfect amount of salt and flavor and it warms Steve’s chest and feels like heaven on his throat. 

“Where’d you get this? It’s delicious,” he says, diving back in for some noodles. 

“My Ma has a bunch in the freezer at home in case anyone gets sick so I just hopped on a bus real quick, not a long ride. It’s matzo ball soup; it has healing powers, trust me.” 

Steve trusts him. His heart feels very warm with the knowledge that Bucky’s done all this for him and he doesn’t know what to say. He’s looking into the soup, trying to find some answers there when he feels a gentle hand on his forehead. 

He looks up with surprise and Bucky quickly retracts his hand, but when Steve leans forward just a touch, he slowly brings it back, clearly feeling for a fever. He brushes his hair back and his touch lingers but Steve tries not to notice. “Fuck, Stevie, you’re burnin’ up,” he murmurs, voice soft and warm. 

Steve shivers, and for once it isn’t from the fucking cold, but Bucky stands and brings a blanket from his own bed. “Buck, no, I’m fine,” he protests but Bucky drapes it over him, careful to avoid the soup. 

“It’s too hot for me anyway, don’t worry about it.” Steve wants to hate him but his chest is too full. He eats more of the soup with Bucky seated next to him, and when a coughing fit wracks his body, Bucky rubs his back through it, his hand warm and gentle but the pressure is there. 

He finishes the soup and sighs gratefully. “Thank you, and please thank your mom for me. That was…” He trails off and Bucky looks pleased. 

“‘Course, Stevie,” Bucky says and he runs his finger through Steve’s hair without seeming to realize it before taking the empty container from Steve. 

He hesitates after he puts the container on his desk, unable to decide what to do next and Steve watches, amused, before a violent shiver travels through his body, even with the extra blanket and the warmest pajamas Steve has. 

Bucky looks at him and gnaws his lip before digging through his closet in search of something. He pulls out one of his hoodies, at least three sizes too big for Steve and brings it over. Steve considers protesting but he’s too cold and the hoodie looks warm and soft and it smells like Bucky so who is he to object?

Bucky helps him put it on like he’s a fucking child but it’s very difficult to sit up for a long time so Steve just lets him. He lies back down and Bucky smooths his hair back once more, and the touch is so nice that Steve closes his eyes and is pulled into a lucid sleep. 

… 

Bucky wakes up a little past two in the morning to the horrible sound of Steve coughing. He can hear the rattling of his lungs and the wheeze in his throat as he struggles for breath and Bucky is utterly helpless to do anything that might make it easier. 

He hears Steve struggling to sit up so that he can cough more easily and without thought, Bucky is crossing the room and helping him get into a seated position, rubbing his upper back through the coughs. He knows Steve isn’t one to touch or be touched very often but it makes him feel like he’s useful, and Steve doesn’t protest, so… 

“Thanks,” Steve says when his coughs die down and Bucky checks to make sure he has enough water before handing it to him. 

He goes back to his own bed but he can hear Steve shifting restlessly and shivering, the fucking skinny thing, and Bucky knows that there isn’t any point in trying to get back to sleep. “I can’t sleep,” he says aloud to the dark room and he hears a huff of laughter on Steve’s side. 

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah. Wanna watch a movie?” he asks, knowing the answer will probably be no but it’s worth a shot anyway. 

Steve clears his throat and shifts, and Bucky can fucking  _ hear _ his teeth chattering but he doesn’t have any more blankets to loan him. “Sure,” he says finally and Bucky grins to himself. He hears Steve moving to sit up once more and Bucky helps him scoot without thought, squeezing in beneath the covers in the hopes that it will warm Steve up. 

“Alright, let me think. What are you in the mood for?” Bucky asks, opening up his laptop. 

He feels a shudder wrack Steve’s body beside him and he winces internally. “Uhh, s-something funny,” Steve croaks out. God, could the kid  _ be _ any sicker? 

“Hm, you want like a show or a movie?” 

“Don’t care. J-just something I can f-fall asleep to.” 

“Got it,” Bucky replies, typing away and finding  _ Austin Powers  _ online. “This movie is awful but amazing, just don’t take it seriously,” he adds, nudging Steve with his shoulder. 

“That’s an oxymoron,” Steve says and Bucky grins because at least he’s well enough to maintain the snark. 

“I put the moron in oxymoron,” Bucky replies cheekily and presses play as Steve rolls his eyes around a laugh. 

He’s still shivering, even with Bucky’s body heat beneath the same blankets and God, he wishes they had a heater or  _ something _ , or more soup. As it is, Bucky hesitates a moment before wrapping an arm around Steve’s narrow shoulders. Steve immediately curls into his body and the movement is so natural and easy that it makes Bucky’s heart pound in his chest. 

He’s doing this to get warm. Bucky needs to stop having these inappropriate thoughts that would surely make Steve uncomfortable if he knew about them. Steve tightens his arms around Bucky and nestles his head further into his chest and Bucky’s throat feels distinctly tight. 

Steve’s breaths eventually even out and Bucky doesn’t have the heart to move quite yet so he stays until the credits roll. He closes the laptop as quietly as possible and begins to shift away from Steve, who is still fast asleep on his chest. Steve makes an unhappy noise and shifts in his sleep, and you know what, fuck it, Bucky is really fucking comfortable. 

He quickly joins Steve in sleep. 

… 

Steve wakes up alone, the sun shining brightly even through the flimsy curtains which Bucky hasn’t opened yet. Their room is empty, Bucky is probably in class, and Steve takes the rare opportunity for solitude to assess his thoughts. He doesn’t remember falling asleep last night, only Bucky’s arms around him and a warm, comfortable embrace. 

Steve is feeling much better today, maybe Bucky is on to something with matzo ball soup thing. Or maybe Bucky has some magical embrace. It had been so nice to fall asleep in those long, strong arms, and Steve wishes he had been less out of it so that he could have taken in every moment. Though, to be fair, if he hadn’t been sick he wouldn’t have been in those arms in the first place. 

Yesterday was one of the best days Steve’s had since his mom died, and it had all been because of Bucky. Steve knows that he is a very tactile, physical person and that there is a good chance that his embrace hadn’t meant anything more than platonic feelings, but it still makes him wonder. 

Steve manages to get up and go to his afternoon class and discussion and considers this a victory. His fever is gone and even though his throat still hurts and there’s still crap in his lungs, he’s a thousand times better and walks with a skip in his step. 

Bucky is there when he gets back later that evening but he is leaving right as Steve comes in. “Where you goin’?” Steve asks with a chuckle that turns into a cough, but not a bad one. He’d hoped that they would maybe watch another movie and pick up where they left off yesterday. 

Bucky looks at him assessingly but when his cough only lasts a second, his face becomes a smile. A smile to see Steve, his treacherous mind supplies. “My date with Mark, we uh, rescheduled for tonight. I was gonna see how you were first but you were gone, so I figured…” He trails off, hand rubbing the back of his neck and the sheepish motion really shouldn’t be  _ that _ adorable. 

Fucking Mark. 

Actually, not fucking Mark. How about abstinent Mark? That has a nice ring to it. Steve shakes his head to clear his thoughts and plasters his best smile across his face. “Right, of course, well I’m much better today, no fever,” he says through his teeth. “Thanks for helpin’ me out yesterday. I’ll see you later,” he rushes through the sentence and plants himself at his desk, glancing up at Bucky who gives him a bewildered look but then shrugs. 

“See ya later, Stevie.”

…

To Bucky’s immense delight, Steve joins him for dinner and then requests that they watch a movie. Something has changed in his demeanor since the night they spent together when Steve was sick; he’s more receptive to Bucky’s playful touches and even gives some of his own. When they watch movies together, Bucky will sometimes end up with his head in Steve’s lap so that he can stroke his hair. Those nimble artist fingers… heaven.

His phone buzzes as they watch  _ The Office _ , and Bucky checks it with one hand while the other strokes up and down Steve’s side who currently is half lying in Bucky’s lap. He pauses his ministrations to respond and Steve looks up at him questioningly. 

“It’s Mark, he wants to hang out,” Bucky answers honestly as he types,  _ Sorry, busy rn. Raincheck? _

“Oh,” Steve says and, does he look disappointed? “Well, we can finish this tomorrow or something,” he says, starting to take the laptop. 

“What? No, I’m hanging with my best pal right now,” he says, throwing his phone to the other side of the room onto his own bed. 

Steve’s cheeks grow pink but the smile he gives Bucky makes his heart sputter for a moment. He presses play on the movie and lies back down, curling up half in Bucky’s lap, who is happy to resume tracing patterns along Steve’s rib cage. 

… 

Things have gone relatively back to normal since Steve was sick. Bucky still annoys the crap out of him and he’s lucky he’s fucking adorable. More and more often, Bucky seems to be blowing off  _ Mark _ in favor of hanging out with Steve, which makes the jealous asshole in his head very pleased, but to his dismay, he hasn’t ended things with the guy. 

They still seem to be texting often, although it seems to be slowing down a bit, and he still goes out on occasion with him. But Steve has him tonight; they’re having a Disney marathon,  (Bucky’s idea), and Steve is very excited. It’s a Friday night which means no classes tomorrow, which means no qualms about staying up late. 

Bucky’s phone buzzes for the second time since starting Cinderella, (they’re going in chronological order of course), and Steve looks down at him, pausing his stroking of Bucky’s hair. 

“It’s Mark,” he says to Steve’s unasked question. “I dunno if I should respond,” he says and Steve removes his hand altogether. As much as he hates him being with Mark, it’s not right to lead people on.

The jealous green monster overtakes Steve’s mouth for a moment and he says scornfully, “Maybe you should stop leading him on in you’re done with him.” He regrets the words as soon as they’re out and Bucky looks up at him with hurt and confusion in his eyes, making him feel ten times worse. “Sorry, that was harsh.”

Bucky shrugs and types something into his phone before putting it away. 

…

Bucky doesn't end it with Mark. He knows it’s wrong to be with someone when he has feelings for someone else, but it’s the best way he knows to get over Steve. He could see himself developing feelings for Mark, he’s sweet and handsome… But he’s not Steve. 

“Hey, Mark invited the both of us to a party tonight at a club downtown, you in?” he asks Steve even though he already knows the answer. 

“Sure.” Or maybe not. 

“Really?” Bucky asks, and he can’t keep the surprise out of his voice. 

“It’s a Saturday night… aren’t you the one always telling me I need to get out more?”

Bucky laughs. “Ya got me there,” he says, shaking his head in amusement. He gives in to the urge to wrap his arms around Steve’s torso as he sits at his desk and rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re comin’ with us, Stevie.”

…

Steve doesn’t know why he agreed to this. Oh yeah. ‘Cause he’s a masochist. 

The club is sleazy and dark, and people aren’t shy about their grinding and humping, especially in the darker corners where you could get away with full on sex if you wanted to. And people probably do, now that Steve thinks about it. 

It’s a good break to think about the hundred other people hooking up when he’s stuck watching Bucky fucking holding Mark’s hips, grabbing him from behind, watching as he presses his junk all up against Mark’s ass and the way they move together to the music. 

It’s nauseating. That’s why Steve has a soda, staring off into space while he sips his drink. A tall guy with dark skin squeezes into the seat next to him. He’s large, almost as big as Bucky, but not quite as deliciously tall. 

He raises an eyebrow at Steve and because, what the hell else is he doing, Steve looks up at him from under his lashes and gives him a small smile. It doesn’t hurt to flirt with strangers at the club. 

“What’s your name?” he asks, leaning in close to be heard over the pounding music, and his breath is hot and wet on Steve’s neck. But he’s attractive so Steve doesn’t tell him to fuck off. 

“Steve,” he answers sweetly. 

“I’m Alex,” he says and the two begin to flirt playfully and for a few moments of blessed relief, Steve isn’t thinking about Bucky basically having sex in the middle of the dance floor. 

It’s when Alex starts moving into his space that the warning bells start to flare, especially when he starts touching. It’s casual at first but then he grips Steve’s arm and asks if he’d like to join him in the restroom. Steve decides this has gone on long enough and starts to shake his head, gently removing Alex’ hand, but the man is much stronger than Steve and he takes an intimidating step into Steve’s space. 

“C’mon, doll, you been flirtin’ all night, don’t leave me hanging,” Alex says, closer than Steve finds comfortable. He pushes back at Alex’s chest and then a body materializes out of nowhere, stepping between Alex and him, pushing Steve behind. 

Of course it’s Bucky fucking Barnes. “Dude, he’s asked you to back off,” Bucky practically growls, and holy shit, his voice is deep and eyes are dark and even though Steve’s fucking pissed at him, his pants are feeling distinctly tighter. 

Alex puts up his hands placatingly and walks away. Bucky turns to him, placing a warm hand on Steve’s shoulder and asks, “You okay?”

Steve glares at him and shrugs his hand off, storming off to the nearest exit he can find which leads to a small alleyway leading back to the street. He hears Bucky calling after him but he ignores it, he needs a moment to clear his head. 

Unfortunately, Bucky isn’t one to give Steve space and Steve hears the door open and close once more. “What the fuck, Steve?” 

Steve whips around, pouring as much venom as he can into his words. “I don’t need you to be my fucking  _ savior _ !” 

Bucky isn’t having any of it and he glares right back, his height both intimidating and a turn on when he looks so powerfully angry. “Oh, so I should’ve just let that fuckin’ tank engine take you wherever when you were clearly saying no?” Bucky looks really fucking angry but also really hurt, pain in those eyes and Steve almost wants to take it back. But then he remembers why they’re here in the first place. 

“Surprised you even noticed since your dick was basically in Mark at that point,” Steve replies spitefully, his voice no longer a shout but with just as much cutting edge. But Bucky looks taken aback. 

“What? I thought you liked Mark.”

“Mark isn’t the fucking problem,” Steve bites out without considering his words and he’s almost let slip of his secret. He needs to get ahold of himself. 

“Then what is?” Bucky sounds desperate and wounded and it wrenches at Steve’s heart to hear. 

But he can’t back down now. He crosses his arms and glares defiantly back at Bucky. 

“Is it that you’re jealous I have someone? Because if you fucking left the room once in a while and got out you’d get just as many if not  _ more _ dates, anybody’d be lucky to have you--” 

“It’s not you I’m fucking jealous of,” Steve cuts him off quietly. He’s had enough of this, it’s time Bucky fucking knew because he can’t deal with the casual touches and cuddling when they don’t mean the same things to Bucky. Not anymore. 

“Then who--” Realization dawns on Bucky’s face and it goes slack, and he looks at Steve like he’s seeing him for the first time. 

“Yeah,” Steve says. Now you get it. He starts to walk around Bucky to go back in the club and maybe take a cab or something back but then Bucky is grabbing his arm and he’s being turned around. Bucky shoves him against the wall and Steve takes a brief moment to admire the display of shear strength, and usually he hates feeling powerless, but he loves the feeling of Bucky completely dominating him physically, especially knowing that he would back off the moment Steve said something. 

They’re pressed together, Bucky’s hands caging Steve in, panting in each other’s space, and suddenly Bucky is diving in and kissing him hard on the mouth, his hands exploring everywhere: Steve’s jaw, his neck, and chest… it’s both too much and nowhere near enough. 

His tongue is dominating the kiss but Steve licks and kisses back just as forcefully, exploring Bucky’s mouth just as he assaults his own. Steve’s never been harder in his life and he can feel Bucky’s own erection pressing into his hip. Bucky starts to pull back and Steve whines from somewhere deep in his throat, and Bucky nips his lower lips playfully before breaking the kiss. 

“You have no idea how fucking long I’ve wanted to do that,” Bucky whispers, panting breath tickling Steve’s face. 

“Me too…” 

Bucky’s thumb sweeps across Steve’s cheek, his eyes searching his face almost reverently and it is such a juxtaposition to the hard needy touches from before. This one is so gentle, treating Steve like he is something precious, and Steve presses his lips sweetly to Bucky’s once more just because he can. 

Bucky breaks apart once more, eyes furrowed worriedly. “Is this gonna be weird because we live together?” 

Steve lets out a breathy laugh, rolling his eyes. “Probably, and because it’s  _ us. _ ” 

Bucky chuckles and presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Fair point.”

Steve leans in to kiss him again, but when he tries to deepen it, Bucky pulls back a bit once more, much to Steve’s frustration. He lets out a huff and Bucky chuckles breathlessly. “I need to go end things with Mark… let’s go home.” 

Steve nods but he allows himself a moment to pout because now that he knows he can touch and kiss Bucky, he never wants to stop. Bucky leads him, lacing their hands together and the action sends warmth racing through Steve’s veins. They walk hand in hand back into the club and Steve briefly wonders how the fuck they’re going to find Mark and what Bucky told him in the first place when he ditched him. 

Steve doesn’t want to see Mark, doesn’t want Bucky to second guess this because Mark can give him things that Steve never can… He wraps an arm around Bucky’s waist and Bucky must see the trepidation on his face because he pulls Steve closer to his side and presses a kiss into his hair. 

Lucky for them, they find Mark quickly… with his tongue down a guy’s throat. 

Steve stands on his tiptoes and Bucky leans down so he can hear him over the pulsing beat. “Are you his ride?” he asks. 

“No, he was gonna pay for the uber home, he should be good.” Steve smiles and bites his lip, looking up at Bucky from beneath his lashes. Something in Bucky’s eyes darken and heat as his pupils dilate and he pulls Steve more securely to his side. “C’mon, let’s go home.” 

They take the world’s longest uber ride known to man, although that could have been the effect of having to keep his hands off Bucky when he’s finally  _ finally  _ gained permission to do just that. They sit in the backseat with their hands entwined on the seat between them. It’s so good, especially when Bucky gives his hand the occasional squeeze or runs his thumb along his knuckles as though just to remind him he’s there. 

They finally get back to campus and as they begin the walk to their dorm, Bucky wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders, holding him close to his side. Steve loops his arm around Bucky’s waist and it’s so natural and comfortable and Steve wouldn’t change it for the world. Well. He would prefer to be back to their dorm already so that he could finally explore the body that Bucky’s been oh so keen on exposing all the fucking time… 

As soon as the door closes behind them, Steve is on Bucky like an animal, assaulting his lips and his tongue with all the pent up emotions of the months leading up to this moment. Bucky chuckles softly when Steve reaches around his neck to pull him down for easier access but it quickly cuts off on a moan when Steve rolls his hips upward, pressing his hardening erection into Bucky’s leg. 

Something in Bucky shifts at the desperate canting of Steve’s hips and suddenly  _ he’s _ the aggressor, pressing Steve against the wall and holding his hips as he grinds his own cock into Steve. 

Steve whines into Bucky’s mouth and presses his lips fervently to Bucky’s, desperation growing as their mutual grinding increases its pace. Without warning, Bucky pulls off, panting hard in the air between them and Steve tries to close the gap between them once more but Bucky stills him with his hands on his hips. 

“What’s wrong,” Steve whispers breathlessly, worried that this entire dream has come toppling down, that Bucky has changed his mind… or worse, that this was only sexual for him to begin with and he wants to make sure Steve is on the same page. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Bucky replies quickly, pressing his lips sweetly to Steve’s for a brief moment, the complete opposite to the deep, intense ones of the moment before. “I’ve just been thinking about this for so long, I wanna take you on a real date first.” He’s looking deeply into Steve’s eyes, his thumb stroking his cheek gently as he searches his face. 

“But I don’t go out much as you so kindly mentioned,” Steve teases, small smile threatening to break through. 

“You have a good point,” Bucky murmurs, leaning in to capture Steve’s lips once more. Steve holds his jaw, feeling the edge of his cheekbone and the beginnings of stubble scratching at his finger. Bucky breaks away suddenly once more and Steve whines in his throat, sticking his lower lip out in a slight pout. “Movie date. Here. Tomorrow at 7.”

Steve pretends to consider for a moment and Bucky looks at him with puppy eyes. “Ughh, fine,” Steve says, pushing playfully at his shoulder. 

Just as Steve is stepping to pass Bucky, he’s being pinned with his front to the wall this time and he feels teeth nibbling at his earlobe. “Careful there, your testing my self control,” he murmurs, breath hot on Steve’s neck. 

“Good,” Steve moans out as Bucky’s teeth travel to his neck and he sucks a spot there. He presses his ass back to meet Bucky’s erection and hears a hiss through his teeth at the feeling. The teeth nip at the sensitive flesh of his throat and then Bucky is stepping back, biting his lip on a smirk as he goes to change into his pajamas. 

…

Bucky has a hard time sleeping that night, especially when Steve comes back to their room after a suspiciously long shower in nothing but a towel, even though up until this point he has always brought his clothes with him. Bucky tries not to look at the thin body and imagine just how easy it would be to lift him as Steve wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist, or to pin Steve’s hands to the bed…

But Steve knows what he’s doing because he gives Bucky an innocent smile with a glint in his eye before Bucky turns so that he can change into clothes with privacy. He can’t resist pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek before going to bed, because now that he’s allowed to, it’s so hard to stop. 

He tosses and turns, listening to Steve’s steady scratching of his pencil on paper and allows the sweet sound to lull him to sleep. 

…

Much to Steve’s disappointment, Bucky is gone most of the day, leaving the next morning with a brief, “See you later,” and a sweet kiss. Steve tries to busy himself, getting ahead with homework and studying but he can’t seem to focus on the words on the page. His stomach keeps turning with nerves for the night to come, wondering if it will all be as natural as the previous night or if it will be stilted and awkward without the adrenaline rush of anger melded with arousal. 

He ends up pacing the room for half an hour and then scoffs at himself for being ridiculous and goes on a walk to clear his mind instead. This is like the least amount of pressure a date can possibly have. It’s with one of his best friends, his only friend pretty much, and it’s going to be like any other time they’ve hung out with hopefully more kissing. And other stuff. 

He ends up forgetting to eat until the afternoon and he knows Bucky will not be happy to show up only to find out he hasn’t eaten all day, so he forces himself to eat a sandwich at the dining hall. He barely tastes it and hadn’t really realized how bleak it is eating alone now that he’s gotten used to going with Bucky all the time. 

But Bucky still isn’t there when he gets back and he’s starting to get worried. He should have asked where he was going or something, but he’s never needed to before because Bucky is always so forthcoming with information like that. Even when Steve doesn’t want him to be. 

But he resists the urge to text, he’s supposed to be back by seven for their date, he still has a couple hours. Steve busies himself with some drawing as he’s grown bored of homework and he most certainly _ doesn’t _ draw what Bucky’s body looks like with a towel wrapped around his waist, no sir. 

He’s just shading the hint of the bulge, barely concealed by the small towel, when a knock startles him half out of his chair. His face is probably bright red and fuck, when did it get so dark? He stumbles to the door, stretching his hand. He doesn’t want to talk to his RA right now, he should make sure he looks presentable for his date with Bucky, but when he opens the door, it’s not his RA. 

“Hey,” Bucky says, quirking a shy smile that makes Steve’s knees feel weak. He’s holding roses, he brought fucking flowers? Jeez, this guy. But no one’s ever done anything like this for Steve, and even though it’s cheesy and cliche, it makes Steve feel warm and light and moves aside for Bucky to come in. 

He reaches for the shelf above his closet for the vase he made in his ceramics class, but his fingertips can barely brush it, when suddenly, Bucky is right behind him, reaching just past him to lift the vase before handing it to him. 

Steve turns to face him and Bucky is still so close, familiar smirk back on his face, the one that comes every time Bucky makes fun of him for being short. “Thank you,” Steve whispers and his voice is gruff and his throat feels tight for some reason. “I should… go fill this,” Steve says, distracting himself for a moment with going to the bathroom to get the water. 

He comes back and Bucky looks almost as nervous as he feels, toeing the carpet facing away from the door, but when Steve reenters, he turns with that easy grin and Steve knows it’s going to be okay. 

“I’m going to change into pajamas and we’re gonna cuddle,” he declares and Bucky smirks with an eyebrow raised. 

“Aye aye, Captain,” he says, only slightly sarcastically and they both quickly put on comfier clothing. Bucky lies on his own bed and smiles nervously up at Steve, leaving a clear space for him to come occupy. Bucky opens his laptop and Steve rests his head on his shoulder. “Now, since I’m always making you watch movies you wouldn’t normally, I thought we’d change the tables a little bit and watch something you like… so what horror movies are any good… and won’t make me shit myself or cry.”

Steve laughs and shakes his head. They scroll through netflix for a bit and eventually decide on a movie called  _ Hush _ , but honestly, they could be watching just about anything and Steve would be the happiest he’s been in his life. 

“Holy fucking mother of god!” Bucky shouts, flinching away from the laptop and covering his face as the killer takes his first victim. Steve laughs and places a hand on his knee. Bucky turns and presses his face into Steve’s neck and the sensation is somewhat ticklish but it sends a shiver down his spine. 

Bucky seems to pick up on the effect and places an open mouthed kiss there and Steve lets out a low moan. “You’re gonna miss the movie,” Steve says teasingly, but he gasps as he feels a slight nip to the sensitive flesh of his throat. 

“I can think of better things to do,” Bucky mumbles against his skin and Steve’s hand comes up to wind in his hair. He pulls Bucky back up so that they are face to face and and brings him closer. 

“And what are those things?” he asks, his voice low and huskier than intended but Bucky’s eyes darken considerably. He leans in and presses his mouth to Steve’s opening him up as he explores with his tongue. Somehow the laptop and the movie get totally forgotten as soon as Bucky begins to undo his pants. “Lookin’ to deflower me on the first date?” Steve asks with a terrible southern drawl. 

He sits up and smirks at Bucky and moves lower along his body to begin to work on Bucky’s own pants. Bucky laughs breathlessly and rolls his eyes. “I hate you,” he says chuckling, but it chokes off on a moan as Steve wraps a hand around his cock. 

“Say that when you have your dick in my mouth,” Steve says before sucking the head in. 

…

They lie basking in the pleasant afterglow with Steve’s head pillowed on Bucky’s chest, Bucky stroking his back and upper arm as Steve feels at the smattering of hair on his chest. Bucky’s never felt so contented in all his life and he looks forward to many other evenings, mornings, any time really, spent in exactly this way. 

“Do I still have to bribe you into coming to meals with me?” he asks out of the blue, smirking down at Steve’s head. Steve lifts off his chest to look him in the face and rolls his eyes. 

“I’m sure you can think of some ways to convince me,” he replies with his own soft smile. Bucky’s sure he’s never looked this dopey in his life but there aren’t many things that could make him wipe the look of his face. 

Bucky kisses his forehead softly and then leans back, closing his eyes to let sleep take him. He feels Steve snuggle into his chest and he sighs deeply. 

…

“Steven Rogers.” Steve makes his way onto the stage and takes his diploma. He gives a small smile to the camera but his smile grows when he hears a whoop from the audience and sees his boyfriend grinning at him. 

He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. Bucky hasn’t been called up because they’re doing students by division instead of in alphabetical order for some reason. 

He waits to the side and watches as his classmates file across the stage until Bucky’s name is finally called. He smiles devilishly at the camera and winks at Steve to the side and this time Steve does roll his eyes. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , the ceremony ends and Steve pushes through the crowd, lost in the sea of bodies, as he looks for Bucky. Not for the first time, he laments the fact that he isn’t taller. He groans in frustration and yelps as he feels something suddenly wrap around his waist. He’s turning and then he’s facing his boyfriend. 

“Hey, baby,” Bucky says softly and despite the noise of the crowd, Steve hears him perfectly. 

“Hi,” he whispers before he is being pulled into a kiss. 

They make their way to Bucky’s parents since Steve doesn’t have any family he needs to say hello to. 

“We are so  _ proud _ of you, both of you,” Bucky’s mom says, wiping tears from her eyes before giving Bucky a long hug. Bucky’s dad claps him on the back and gives him a smile. Steve feels awkward, watching the display, and he takes a small step back to give them some privacy, but Bucky’s mom releases Bucky and pulls Steve into a bone crushing hug. 

“You should be so pleased with yourself,” she whispers to Steve, cupping his cheek just like his own mother had done when she was alive. 

“Thank you Mrs. Barnes.” 

“Freddi. Or Ma. We feel so lucky to have you as part of the family, you make Bucky so happy,” she kisses his cheek and pulls him into another hug. Steve’s throat feels tight with unshed tears and he bites his lip to hold them back. 

“Thank you,” he chokes out and she gives him a watery smile. She returns and says something to her husband and Steve feels Bucky come to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

Bucky kisses his temple and gives him a squeeze. “I love you,” he whispers into Steve’s ear and Steve beams back at him. Bucky has given him so much; love, a family, a  _ life _ . Bucky strokes a thumb on Steve’s cheek and he leans into the touch. 

He opens his mouth but closes it, eyebrows furrowing as realization hits him. He doesn’t think he’s ever said the three words back. Bucky says them, almost all the time, but Steve has never been as expressive with emotion as Bucky is… 

But he knows he  _ feels _ … that way. And Bucky deserves to know that he feels that way, that his affections are reciprocated. He tugs Bucky’s free hand to get his attention, to get him to lean in and look down into Steve’s eyes. 

“You know that I… that I love you too, right?” he says quietly and Bucky gives him a fond smile. 

“I know, Stevie. Thank you for telling me, though, I know it’s not… easy for you.” Steve nods and stands on his toes to steal a quick kiss. 

“Well you deserve to know. I’m in love with Bucky Barnes.” It feels surprisingly good to get the words out and his chest is warm. 

“Such a sap,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes with a wide smile. 

…

**Author's Note:**

> Alright brief mention, this story is based on my experiences with my own roommate, (no we are not dating nor will we ever). But the characteristics of each are based on us as well as the movie night stuff without the touching. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, thanks so much for reading!


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